Outlaw Cowboy

by Nicole Helm

  But why was she thinking about leaving? He couldn’t resist another peek at her any more than he could resist the question. “Are you planning on leaving?”

  Some of the simple joy leaked out of her expression as fast as it had appeared. “I ca—” She shook her head, clearly irritated by whatever it was she’d been meaning to say. “Not yet, anyhow. Maybe someday.”

  There was a strange note to her voice, something akin to wistfulness, but not quite. She turned away from the sun, and to him. Why did that seem so symbolic?

  “What can I help with?”

  There were probably a lot of ways he could answer that question, but he turned to the feed and lectured her about cattle instead.

  * * *

  Delia’s muscles hurt by the end of an afternoon following Caleb around. He’d been surly, blunt, and hadn’t gone easy on her.

  She grinned and drank in the sinking sun. It had been the best afternoon she could remember in…forever. There was a certain way she had to live—head down, work hard, get one sister out and then the next—that didn’t lend itself to a lot of drinking-in-the-sun introspection.

  It didn’t get Steph out of Dad’s clutches either, which was a problem, but she had all night to obsess over that.

  For right now? She was going to go take a low-water-pressure shower and eat what would likely be unfulfilling canned pasta. And she was going to treasure a few hours of…

  What could she call that feeling? Working side by side with Caleb, feeding cows, checking fences, refilling water tanks. Hard work. Sweaty and sometimes gross work, and yet…

  She’d been at peace. Partly because of the work and partly because of being outside. And partly even because of the company.

  Which she would admit to not one living soul. She started admitting that sort of thing and she was going to do something really stupid, and there wasn’t time for that.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to let the little aura of warmth keep her spirits up as she slipped back into the dark and dusty cabin. She was going to hold on to it, nurture it, and let it soothe her.

  When you grew up with nothing, you learned how to hold on to the good without letting it make you soft. A sip of the good stuff tasted all the sweeter for its rarity. If you got ahold of it all the time, you’d get drunk on it and ruin everything.

  But a sip? A sip could be everything you needed to tide you over to the next.

  She hummed to herself as she went through the pitiful shower and heated up the pathetic meal, both to ward off the silence and the loneliness and—worst of all—the bitterness creeping in.

  Okay, maybe a sip was a bad idea, because it reminded her of all she didn’t and couldn’t have.

  She pushed out a breath. Pessimism didn’t save Steph, so she had no time for it. School was how she’d gotten Billie out; she’d picked her up in the back parking lot of Valley County High School after bribing a couple of underage kids with booze to get a message to her.

  Not her finest moment, but Billie was free.

  Still, that meant she couldn’t get Steph out that way, as Dad probably ruled drop-off and pickup with an iron fist—if he was even letting her go. Every way she’d managed to liberate her sisters had immediately come under Dad’s control. Extracurriculars, hanging out with friends, school.

  Really, all that was left was the house, and before Delia could even think about going to the house, she needed to know more. More about their routines. It meant spying and not getting caught—to, from, or around Dad’s place.

  All the way across the valley. How the hell was she going to get herself around?

  She heard the rumble of an engine, and despite every atom of common sense she’d ever honed, her heart took a leap. Not the scared the-cops-might-have-found-her kind. The I hope it’s someone kind. And…well, there was a certain someone in that hope, but maybe if she didn’t acknowledge that it wouldn’t grow.

  But when she glanced out the window, it wasn’t Caleb’s truck. It was an old junker that bounced and wheezed across the hill, past the cabin and toward where Summer had appeared from the other night.

  Driven by untamed curiosity—and stupidity, really—Delia slid out the door into the dark night. She watched the taillights bump past a line of trees, keeping her eyes trained on the path they cut, and followed it.

  Why? She had no idea. There was something mysterious about this Summer girl—from the way Caleb refused to talk about her and who exactly she was, to the way she was hidden back on Shaw property.

  It was none of Delia’s business, and she knew better than to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. Of course, keeping her nose out of things, like Eddie’s drug ring problem, had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  The icy cold of a spring night slithered through the dark, attacking the thin fabric of her jacket and shirt with a kind of evil glee.

  Okay, obviously she’d been spending too much time alone if she was giving the air evil intent.

  She lost sight of the taillights, and the world went eerily dark. Cloud cover hid any moon or starlight. Everything was just black expanse, and Delia had to count and breathe through the panic that seized her.

  She’d never been a fan of the dark. Monsters lurked in the dark, and not the kind you could grow out of believing in. Real monsters with fists and guns and pure evil behind their eyes.

  She clenched her hands into fists, stomped harder on the ground with every step. She dug deep to find the mantra she’d repeated through fear since she had been a little girl bolting a rickety bedroom door against a father’s unnerving gaze.

  My bones are steel, my heart is stone, I will survive this world alone. I am here. I can win. I can survive anything.

  Quite an impressive bit of poetry for a seven- or eight-year-old. She’d probably gotten it out of a book or a movie, but it had become a piece of her. A talisman that couldn’t be taken away or fall to pieces like her boots were in danger of doing. It could get her through the dark that always seemed to creep up when she was least expecting it.

  A little light winked to life in the distance. Delia had to clutch her fists at her sides to keep from reaching out for it.

  She took a deep breath, repeated her mantra a few more times, then headed for the light. In for a penny and all that shit.

  It took longer than she expected, and the chill invaded every last defense she had against it. By the time she saw the odd little caravan in a clearing surrounded by fir trees, she was shivering and hugging herself.

  “Hello.”

  Delia screeched and jumped what had to be at least a foot, but almost as soon as the insane jolt zapped through her, she recognized the sweet, feminine voice as Summer’s.

  “Jesus H, woman, you have got to stop scaring me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She paused and stepped into the weak glow from her place’s lighted windows. “Though you’re the one sneaking around in my yard this time.” Still, Summer seemed more amused by this than irritated.

  The girl had a screw loose.

  “I just…didn’t know where you disappeared to. Thought I’d check it out.”

  “Well, it’s freezing out here. Come inside.”

  Delia’s eyes had adjusted enough to the dim light to see Summer was carrying something, likely from her car.

  Self-preservation told her to say “no, thank you” and go back to the cabin where she could be alone with her escape plans.

  But the word alone mixed with the deep chill, prompting her to follow Summer into the bizarre little building she called a home.

  It was warm, some canopy like out of Little House on the Prairie bolted into a square piece of trailer—it was basically what amounted to a wooden covered wagon. Add in the kerosene lamps hanging from hooks, and all the quilty, hand-knitted-looking stuff… Summer was living some modern version of Oregon Trail and happy about
it.

  Took all kinds, Delia supposed.

  Summer crossed to a quilt hanging from a rod. It was some sort of door, presumably to a bedroom, since everything in the main room was mini-kitchenette and seating. She placed what appeared to be a guitar case behind the blanket.

  She smiled pleasantly, her face fresh except for something smudged under her eyes—likely mascara. Her brown hair was braided and pinned up on her skull in some intricate pattern, and she wore a long, flowing skirt and a kind of knit top.

  Who was this girl and what the hell was she doing in Blue Valley?

  “Do you want some tea?”

  Delia blinked at her. “Tea? Like…the stuff in the little bags and hot water?”

  Summer only smiled and nodded.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had tea in my life,” she muttered more to herself than to Summer. Tea in tea bags. Dainty, pretty little teacups. Christ, she’d stepped into an alternate dimension.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Um, I guess?”

  Summer nodded, turning to her little kitchenette, which was basically a counter the size of a postage stamp, a cabinet that ran from floor to ceiling, and a little stove with a pipe that ran up to the roof, with coals glowing through the slits in the door. She opened the cabinet door to reveal food and dishes arranged neatly on little shelves.

  “Some place.”

  Summer looked around, her mouth curving into a smile. “I like it,” she said, the words simple, the meaning behind them not simple at all. Emphatic. Joyful.

  Lucky bitch.

  Delia looked back at the blanket-door and the guitar case. “Do you play for audiences and stuff?” she asked, her conversation skills beyond rusty.

  “I play at the Pioneer Spirit on Friday nights.” She fussed with mismatched teacups, but her excitement, her joy, and a weird restless energy poured out of her like she couldn’t help but be exuberant in all things. “Tonight I got the best news too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Why was Delia sitting here listening to a near-stranger talk about her day? She should head back to her cabin and plan Steph’s escape.

  Alone. Alone. Alone. The word echoed in her brain, and Delia didn’t move for the door.

  “I got a new boss, and she wants me to sing Friday and Saturday nights and some weekday night—of my choice!” Summer grinned over her shoulder. “Can you believe that?”

  “Uh, you must have a great voice.”

  She blushed, so demure and pretty. Delia couldn’t figure out how she fit into the Shaw family. Mel was about as demure as the cows Delia’d helped Caleb take care of this afternoon, and Caleb and Mr. Shaw were…hard. Worn. Sad.

  Thinking of Caleb being sad did a weird thing to her heart, twisting it in her chest.

  She ignored it.

  “The guy who used to own the bar, I think he hired me only because Caleb said something. I don’t know for sure, but I never thought he liked me much. But anyway, my new boss is a woman, and you’ll never guess how she got the place from him.”

  The heart-twisting feeling deepened, and Delia was embarrassed as hell that tears were pricking her eyes, but this exchange, sitting here talking about a day’s happenings, it was so much like…

  Life before she’d been kicked out of the Rogerses’ house. It hadn’t been particularly nice or hopeful, but she’d had her sisters. There’d always been someone to talk to, to do something with, to hide with.

  Delia had sought to fill that hole with men since she’d left—she’d never been very good at making female friends outside her sisters—but it had never felt like this. This was something like napping by a warm fire. Comfortable and cozy. Rejuvenating. It warmed and soothed all the hard edges of the day.

  Working with Caleb had felt like that, which didn’t make any sense at all. Better it didn’t. She’d be afraid if it actually made sense.

  But missing the company of her sisters did make sense, and that’s what sitting here with Summer reminded her of. Camaraderie, family, and knowing you weren’t alone. She’d been alone for so very long.

  “Are you okay?” Summer asked gently.

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Her voice didn’t sound remotely okay, but she ignored it, hoping Summer’s manners would make her ignore it too. “So, how’d your new boss get the place?”

  “Poker!” Summer said gleefully, handing Delia the teacup, saucer and all. Christ on a cracker.

  A strange niggling tapped Delia in the spine, but she ignored it. “No way.”

  “I didn’t think people actually gambled things besides money. It’s like straight out of a book. Of course, if I had a choice, I’d wish a hot guy had been the one who won the bar at poker and sweep me off my feet, but Rose is so amazing, so…”

  The rest of Summer’s words were nothing more than a buzz. Delia nearly dropped the teacup, the tapping on her spine becoming a full-on whack of a sledgehammer. “R-Rose?” she repeated hoarsely.

  “Yeah, my new boss. Her name is Rose. She’s such a…such a…badass.” Summer stumbled over “ass” like she wasn’t accustomed to swearing, and then she tipped her head to the side and sipped at her tea. “You know, you kind of look like—”

  Delia bolted to her feet. It was insane. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. But Rose and poker and a bar. Holy mother of…

  “I have to go.” She shoved the teacup at Summer. “Thanks for the chat and congrats on the singing thing.” She all but lunged for the door, knowing she was making an idiot out of herself, but…

  Rose.

  Here.

  Oh, God.

  “Do you want a wrap or something? It’s awfully cold out—”

  But Delia couldn’t sit still and listen or even politely decline. She hopped out of Summer’s bizarre place and made a mad dash for…

  She stopped in the middle of the dark field, breath heaving, lungs burning. She had no car. She had nothing except her name on a warrant. She couldn’t get to Rose, and even if she could, she couldn’t afford to be seen, let alone with Rose. That would put Rose in danger.

  Her sister. One of her sisters had come back. Oh, that idiot. What was she doing? Winning bars in poker matches. Coming back here of all the damn places.

  Even though she wished she could teleport and shake some sense into her sister, she smiled. Rose. So close.

  She had to get a message to her. Summer could help, but that would mean giving Summer a glimpse of the trouble she was in. It would give Summer power: she could turn Delia in to the cops, she could hurt Rose if she saw fit.

  Summer didn’t seem like the type, but…well, lots of people seemed good or harmless, and weren’t at all. A lesson she wasn’t going to forget any time soon.

  Which meant she had only one choice. She started to run again, but this time she ran straight for the Shaw house.

  Chapter 7

  Caleb awoke with a start. His room was dark and the house was silent except for the occasional creak. What had woken him up?

  Bang. He jumped.

  What the hell was that?

  Bang.

  He pushed out of bed. The room was cold and his feet were freezing, but he needed to find the source of that noise first. Before it woke up Dad. Unless it was Dad.

  His pace quickened, another bang sounding as he stepped out into the hall. He was almost certain it came from the door to the rickety old second-story porch. No one had been out there in ages.

  He inched his way toward it. Probably an animal or the wind, but…

  Bang bang.

  It sounded awfully human. Standing to the side of the door, he tried to peer out the gap between the window on the door and the curtain. A shadow lingered, but without any kind of light he couldn’t make out what it was.

  Tree? Raccoon? Bloodthirsty thief?

  He rolled his eyes at himself. Because bloodthirsty thieves were
known for banging on doors. It couldn’t be a person. It was a second-story porch. He unbolted the door and pushed it open.

  “It’s about time.”

  The sound that came out of him was decidedly unmanly, and it was only thanks to his grip on the door that he didn’t sink to his knees.

  “The fuck, Delia?”

  “Let me in. I’m f-freezing.”

  Once the shock wore off, he could feel it as well. The below-freezing temperatures hit his mostly bare skin. “How the hell did you get up—No, I don’t want to know. Just…what are you—No, I don’t want to know that either. Get out.” He started stalking down the hall to the stairwell. So he could kick her down it.

  Sure, tough guy.

  Delia, of course, stood instead at the opening to his room. He hadn’t flipped on any lights, so she was merely a shadow.

  “I need your help,” she said breathlessly.

  He’d be breathless too if he’d scaled a second-story porch. “Are you drunk?” She had to be on something to be idiot enough to climb a house.

  “No.”

  “High?”

  Her shadow seemed to flinch. “Never touch the stuff.”

  “So what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Climbing up God knows what. Scaring the shit out of everyone.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake up your father, and to be fair, it’s hardly the middle of the night.”

  “It is for someone who has to be up at four.” He gave up getting her out. She’d all but climbed his house. Obviously she had reasons for being here.

  “Tell me what you want.” He made a move for his room, hoping to get some clothes, but he stopped halfway to her, realizing he was nearly naked and she was blocking his way to his shirts, pants, socks. It didn’t matter. He was wearing boxers, and it wasn’t as though he had any particular shame about his body.

  Except he didn’t want her to see it. Not out of shame or embarrassment, but out of… No words he cared to admit.

  He was cold. She was in his way. End of story.

  “I think Rose is back in Blue Valley.”